


Sickening Desire

by autumnmycat



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnmycat/pseuds/autumnmycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something about Mr. Mark Jefferson that made Nathan feel vulnerable and frightened and raw, but there was something about those feelings that wrapped around him and made him make some stupid ass decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sickening Desire

There was something about Mr. Mark Jefferson that made Nathan feel vulnerable and frightened and raw, but there was something about those feelings that wrapped around him and made him make some stupid ass decisions.

There was something about that classroom that always hung heavy on his skin, the dim light of the setting sun melting him into his seat. He watched in a trace-like state as Mr. Mark Jefferson graded papers and carefully judged student’s submissions. Nathan wasn’t sure why this felt like an intimate moment – they were on opposite sides of the room – but the Quiet that hung over them felt like a physical caress.

There was something about the way that he praised him – the small tug of the lips, the faint twinkle in the eye, the hand that patted his head, the fingers that ran through his hair – that set his mind running. It was hard to pull it back in because it would fly in so many different directions, and Mark would almost seem _amused_ at the look that crossed Nathan’s face. It was like he knew that just being told that he wasn’t a total fuck up was all he ever wanted. So, it was no surprise when Mark began to give him more.

There was something about drinking whiskey straight from the bottle that made Nathan feel simultaneously like a total badass and a complete loser. Especially with Mr. Mark Jefferson’s eyes on him. They watched each other, almost as if it had been a game of cat and mouse except without the ACME explosives and cartoon violence. But, three, four, five swigs in, it became more like a game to see who would crack first. Although it wasn’t really a game because they both knew who was going to crack first, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Mr. Mark Jefferson.

There was something about the way Nathan bit his bottom lip when Mark Jefferson sat next to him that made him feel embarrassed and childish. But, to Nathan’s surprise, a thumb brushed against his lips like tangerines, and it wasn’t his own. His breath caught in his throat, and _shit_ , this wasn’t what he wanted, but it was _exactly what he wanted._ He wanted to get up and run away, but the alcohol was already making him tired and apathetic. If this was going to happen, it was just going to happen. _Whatthefuckever._

There was something about the way Mark reached out and grabbed Nathan’s chin and stared at him that made Nathan believe that he could see deep into his fractured soul, but the wicked grin and the capture of his lips were enough to tell him that this was just a game, after all. He was just another child with _innocence_ to corrupt. The realization didn’t stop Nathan from kissing back, though.

There was something about the way the words, “You’re such a good boy, Nathan,” set his skin on fire like gasoline. It was such a simple phrase, a simple expression of approval, but it made the boy groan, made his heart ram against his chest. He wanted to feel like that _all the time_. It was better than any other sort of high, and it was just a few words. It was so easy to pacify him that Nathan felt ashamed. But, regardless, he allowed teeth to make contact with his neck, he let blood be brought to the outside world, he let pain shock his body. This didn’t mean much of anything because Nathan was used to pain after all, and this felt infinitely better than when he let blades carve him up like a Halloween pumpkin. Some part of him wanted to be in a lot of pain because it was an incredibly fascinating feeling, and it was all he deserved anyway. Mark was never one to disappoint. 

There was something about having his hands tied behind his back and his face pressed into the cushions of a couch and his mind bogged down with the heavy haze of whiskey and anti-psychotics that made Nathan feel like he was paralyzed. This was so exciting/frightening/invigorating/absolutely _terrifying_ , but when a much larger hand grabbed at his hair in an effort to expose his neck and allow said hand to wrap around his windpipe, Nathan knew that this was nothing/everything/nothing he ever wanted. The inability to take a breath was the one last thing he needed for sobs to wrack his body, for his shoulders shake, for big, fat cry baby tears to roll down his cheek and onto the couch cushions. Mark only let go of his throat. He did not release him. He was glad/disappointed. He wanted him to leave him alone/pull him closer. Nathan wasn’t really sure what he wanted anymore.

There was something about being pressed up against the wall in a drug and booze-induced stupor that made the whole situation feel like a hallucination. He watched Mark as if he were not the subject of his desire, as if this was not happening to him, but instead, it was another form of Nathan, one that wasn’t really real, one that didn’t really exist. Although, he was real and did exist, and he could tell because Jefferson was tearing him apart at the seams, breaking him apart like a children’s toy being stepped on by a vindictive parent. Tears rolled into his ears as his head dipped back, sounds of pain and shame and despair mixed with those sounds that only adults should make, but Nathan was an adult when Jefferson told him he was.

There was something about laying on the cold ground of the Dark Room, body used up and mind addled, that had Nathan thinking about Jefferson all the fucking time for weeks afterward. He tried to keep his cool, but all Nathan wanted was to be used again because it meant that Jefferson’s attention would be on him. He just wanted to hear nice words directed toward him, but he would even be okay with it if Jefferson wanted to choke him out a little – it hadn’t been that scary after all – and if it made Jefferson stop ignoring him, that wouldn’t be so bad.

But, there was something about being totally unnoticed by the one person who used to treat him so kindly that drove Nathan insane. So insane that he kept forgetting to take his medication, and that really made him insane. He called Jefferson’s cellphone and broke down like the sniveling cry baby he was, warning him about the shadows and monsters that haunted his dreams, and Jefferson just hung up like the cold, manipulative bastard he was.

After class one day, once all the other kids were gone, Nathan stood in front of Jefferson and pleaded for him to _please, please, please_ take him again, he’ll do anything, he’ll _do anything_. But, Mr. Mark Jefferson just reached out and clutched Nathan’s chin as hard as he could, pulling him close enough that he could feel hot breath on his cheeks. Tears pricked at his eyes, fogging his already murky vision.

The words came out like they were a knife slicing through Nathan's throat.

“If you don’t get your shit together, _I won’t hesitate to kill you_.”

There was something funny about trying to pick up the pieces of himself from the classroom floor. Nathan had to wonder how there were more pieces than when he started.

 


End file.
